


Training Methods

by A_Diamond



Series: Pornalot 2017 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Dom Arthur, Feathers & Featherplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Games, Sub Merlin, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: Merlin felt fevered, the breath in his lungs even hotter than the sweltering summer air.





	Training Methods

**Author's Note:**

> For the Pornalot prompt: Tease

Merlin felt fevered, the breath in his lungs even hotter than the sweltering summer air. Even the droplets of sweat that beaded from his flushed skin to try and bring him relief left warm, sticky trails instead of cooling chills in their wakes. His whole body burned, but it was worst—brightest, sharpest—best—where ropes pressed into his wrists, his ankles, looped around his throat. The soft, silken lengths of twine once held back the curtains of the bed, but those had been drawn around, stifling any hope of a breeze.

A shuddering breath made his mouth a desert, and though Merlin tried to wet his lips, his tongue was just as parched. He couldn’t unstick his throat enough to push any words out, not that he had any idea what he’d try to say if he could. The inarticulate moan that cracked its way out of him probably meant the same thing as whatever it would have been.

“Shhh.”

A touch like a burning brand trailed down his spine. He wanted to flee from it and towards it in equal measure. Knowing he was forbidden from either, he held his posture against a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. One fingertip flowed into two, then three, then there was the full palm of a hand wrapped around Merlin’s hip, more solid than anything he could remember in his heady haze. It held him there until the blazing touch of it normalized, became part of the fabric of his world like his own skin, then it was gone and he felt the absence like a wound.

The noise that dragged out of him hurt, a thin and ragged whine that sounded loud as thunder in the stillness even though there was barely any power behind it. No comfort followed that time. He had to calm himself, taking deep breaths of air that felt too heavy in his lungs until the small tremors stopped raising gooseflesh up his back and down his arms.

He couldn’t relax fully, not with his vision blacked out by the neckerchief tied over his eyes, but he let the tension slip from his shoulders. His heart tripped over itself with each breath, anticipatory.

Something soft and delicate brushed up the length of his prick it and doubled him over like a hit to the gut. Even as he struggled to right himself without help from his arms, the light touch chased him down, fluttering around the sensitive crown mercilessly. The texture changed as it dragged through the dripping mess of his pre-release—he’d been leaking like a cracked bucket for what felt like hours, hard for even longer than that. It started to cling, sticky and wet but still softer than silk, and the tease of it drove Merlin nearly to madness.

When it slipped down to stroke at the underside, flicking up against his bollocks, he felt the hard ridge of a spine running up the middle and managed to scramble together enough of his thoughts to make the connection.

“Fe—feather,” he gasped, a drowning man using his last breath to call for help.

Arthur didn’t relent. “More specific,” he demanded, voice hot, breath hotter against Merlin’s neck.

The swish of the feather around his prick made thinking an almost impossible task, but fortunately Merlin was familiar enough with the contents of Arthur’s room that it didn’t take too much effort.

“Your quill! The quill, from your desk, for writing—”

Then the feather was gone, replaced by Arthur’s hand around him, and Merlin fell back against him. “We’ll get you more observant yet,” Arthur mused smugly as he finally, finally brought him off.


End file.
